


A Moonlight's Stroll

by Niiro_Nero



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bigotry & Prejudice, Butler Nick, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Interspecies Romance, Romance, Slow Burn, Sly Bunnies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niiro_Nero/pseuds/Niiro_Nero
Summary: Nicholas Wilde, butler to the Hopps Family. Smug, smooth, and with an ever-present grin. A fox. Judy thought that was all there was to him for years until she got a glimpse beneath the mask.Now she's not too sure anymore.[Sadly Abandoned, feel free to take.]





	1. A Not so Smug Fox

**Author's Note:**

> [Sadly Abandoned]

 

“That’s the fourth suiter this month, Judy!” Stu groaned as the well-dressed buck stormed out of the Hopps Burrow, wine covering the front of his well-tailored suit.

 

“He would be the last, too, if I had my way!” Judy glared at her father, her right foot rapidly thumping against the wooden floor of the entrance way.

 

Sighing, the older rabbit could only stare helplessly at the departing horse-drawn coach, carrying in it the last suitable buck in Bunnyburrow. “Judy, William is a fine young rabbit! He’s independently wealthy, owns a parcel of land, and could make sure you’re well taken care of!”

 

Judy narrowed her eyes at the doorway that William had passed through, “He touched my butt, dad!”

 

“WHAT?!” Stu’s ears shot up from where they had been drooping against his back.

 

“It’s true, Mr. Hopps,” a smooth voice reached the two rabbits from the doorway to a neighboring room, “I saw Mr. Cottonsworth touch Miss Judy myself. I went to intervene, but she had it…handled.”

 

Judy’s eyes moved to the right slightly, taking in the sight of the family butler, the fox Nicholas Wilde, dressed in a suit and bow-tie. In his paws he carried a tray of refreshments and snacks. Carrots, berries, and various other produces for guests and family alike.

 

“Nicholas! Did you complete the task I’d given you? And it’s probably best that… _you_ …don’t intervene in sensitives matters like that.” Stu nervously eyed his family’s butler, one hired by his wife, Bonnie, nearly eighteen years ago.

 

Knowing full-well Stu’s fear of large, dangerous, predators. Especially foxes.

 

“Of course, Sir.” Nicholas’ face didn’t waver in the slightest, the ever-present grin on his face untouched, “In the future I’ll make sure to alert you immediately. Also, yes. The Mayor was most grateful for the gift.”

 

“R-right. Good work.” Clearing his throat, Stu sighed and turned his attention to his eldest daughter once again, “But I don’t think there will be another suiter. Not from Bunnyburrow, at least. I’ll have to inquire outside of the Tri-Burrows.”

 

“Or, and this is just a thought, I could _not_ marry.” Judy crossed her arms in front of her chest with a huff, “It’s not like I’m the _only_ daughter you have.”

Nicholas masked a laugh with a soft cough, clearing his throat when both smaller mammals turned to look at him, his grin unchanging. Seeing that the fox wasn’t going to present a solution to his problem, Stu turned back to his glaring daughter.

 

“You can’t do that, Judy! Think about what the neighbors would say? A doe, at _your_ age, not marrying? That’s unnatural!” Shuddering, the older rabbit tugged at his own ears.

 

“Well, then I guess I’m just a freak, aren’t I?” Giving her father one last glare, Judy stomped past Nicholas and down the stairs to go to her room.

 

The two males stood in silence, watching her as she disappeared from their sight. Finally, once the door to the lower levels of the Hopps Burrow had slammed shut, Stu turned to look at his taller servant. Reaching out, the older mammal took one of the carrots from the tray and nibbled on the end of it, sighing.

 

“Why is she so difficult? I just want what’s best for her!” Taking larger bites of his carrot, Stu reached for another, frowning when Nicholas pulled the tray away.

 

“You know what Mrs. Hopps would say about you eating so much before dinner, Sir.” Turning slightly to head back in the direction he came from, the fox paused and looked over his shoulder at his employer.

 

“If I may answer your question, Sir. Perhaps you should consider if what _you_ think is best for Miss Hopps, is actually what’s best for her.” Walking towards the rear of the Burrow’s upper level, the fox’s tail swished in a gentle arch.

 

“Just a suggestion, Sir. I’ll alert you when dinner is prepared,” and with that the fox turned the corner and out of sight.

 

Stu tilted his head and thoughtfully chewed on the remains of his carrot, watching the larger mammal leave.

 

“Hmm…”

 

* * *

 

 

It was night when Judy finally calmed down enough to leave her room, and she was hungry. She’d ignored the calls for dinner, still upset with her father, and unwilling to talk to her mother. With the Hopps Burrow now asleep the purple eyed doe crept from her room, through the darkened halls, and to the large kitchens that serviced her large family.

 

Only to pause at the sight of the family butler, Nicholas, standing near the counter with a basket of her family’s blueberries in front of him. The fox appeared to be so engrossed with the produce that he hadn’t noticed her arrival.

 

She had not really paid much attention, recently, to the predator that her mother had brought into her family’s employment when she was still a child of six. He’d been an object of interest to her and her siblings when they were young. One of the only predators in BunnyBurrow, and a fox at that, they’d followed him around everywhere, wondering if he was like the monsters from their father’s stories.

 

Wondered if he was like Gideon Grey.

 

But he’d never done anything. Never attacked some poor bunny, or robbed anyone, or swindled anyone out of their hard earned money. He’d done his job, catering to her family’s every need, with an ever present grin on his face. A grin she didn’t remember ever seeing him without.

 

Until now.

 

She didn’t think the fox had the ability to frown, to look so downtrodden and sad, as he was now. He picked at the pile of berries with a slow, almost mindless she realized, hand. His usually bright green eyes were dulled, unfocused.

 

It was in this moment that Judy realized she didn’t really know anything about the mammal that had served her family for almost her entire life. She knew he was from Zootopia, the capital of the country, and that his last name was Wilde, but everyone in the burrow knew those facts.

 

She reached up and touched her cheek, the one marred by Gideon Grey over a decade and a half ago, and remembered the way she’d treated Nicholas after that incident. Untrusting, cruel even, with her words and glares. She’d taken the actions of one fox and applied them to all foxes.

 

But he’d never once reacted to her. Just grinned and took the abuse, like he’d always had. Her father, her grandfather, some of her brothers and sisters. They’d never made him feel welcome, but he’d never once voiced a complaint. He never showed that it affected him.

 

Gazing at the fox standing at the counter, his eyes dull and lifeless, and his muzzle set in a deep frown, he looked pitifully sad. Alone. The only fox in a sea of rabbits, never welcomed by them, but expected to labor for them.

 

She vowed to herself that she’d give him a chance.

 

_I’ll make things right!_


	2. A Sly Old Bunny

Judy was conflicted.

On one paw, she’d made the choice to try and befriend Nicholas, her family butler, but on the other she was still…uncomfortable with being around foxes. Gideon Grey had left quite the mark, both literally and figuratively, on her. She also didn’t know how to approach Nicholas. It would be terribly out of character for her to randomly approach him and begin chatting.

He wasn’t a fool, after all. She’d freely admitted that much to her friends whenever they’d asked about him, even back before her vow to change her ways. The fox possessed a cunning, sharp, mind. He’d see through her in an instant, which would make things worse.

He’d probably think she was doing it out of pity. Which she…was. Kind of.

_This is so much more complicated than I’d expected it to be…_ Judy sighed from her seat in one of the many parlors of her family home, and sipped from a small tea cup.

Across from her, sipping her own cup, was her mother, Mrs. Bonnie Hopps. The older doe was eyeing her daughter with a shrewd and calculating gaze. The two female rabbits had been sitting together for some time now, having a, mostly one-sided, conversation.

Bonnie had noticed her daughter’s lack of attention at the start of their little get-together, nearly three hours ago. The younger doe’s ears were drooping, and she barely drank any of the tea, which was quite unlike Judy. Not drinking with the “host” was quite rude, and Judy was anything but rude.

_Something has her distracted._ Bonnie took a long sip, using the cup to cover her frown, _Can’t be the incident with that young buck, William, so what then?_

Mammals often underestimated the matriarch of the Hopps family, assuming her to be a simple rabbit, like her husband. Sticking to rabbit businesses, in rabbit communities, and having dinner with rabbit neighbors. They didn’t know of the cunning, analytical, mind that lurked behind a sweet, kindly gaze.

_After all, someone had to manage the entire Hopps household. Stewart, sweet buck that he is, certainly couldn’t do that._ The older doe dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief, and set her cup down.

“Judy, you’ve been sighing like that all morning. What’s wrong?” Deciding to cut right to the point, Bonnie pinned her daughter with a narrowed gaze.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Judy picked at the carrots placed on the snack tray.

“You are not fine. Something’s bothering you.” Bonnie reached over to give her daughter’s arm a tender squeeze, “Talk to me, Judy.”

Judy looked down at the paw on her arm, and sighed. She covered her face with her paws, and groaned, “It’s just…Have you noticed how Dad and the others treat Nicholas?”

Bonnie paused and eyed her daughter carefully, “Well, of course I have. I keep a close on him.”

_And share tea with him, in this very room, every Saturday evening. But Stewart doesn’t need to know that. He’d have a heart attack._ Bonnie narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the thought of how her husband treated her “ward.”

Which is what Nick was, despite him being a grown mammal. Lord knows the fox would forget to feed himself if she wasn’t there to remind him. She often wondered if he did it on purpose, just to make her worry.

_Speaking of which, he really is too skinny…I’ll have one of the cooks make something for him later. May be salmon with a light blueberry glaze? I know he likes blueberries-_

“Mother!” Her daughter’s yell pulled Bonnie from her thoughts, forcing her to look into the annoyed eyes of the younger doe.

“O-oh, my apologies, Judy! What did you say? You know how my mind wanders in my old age…” Bonnie took a sip from her tea, and tried to force herself to stop blushing.

“Why haven’t you stepped in to make Dad stop?” The accusing tone the younger doe took made Bonnie furrow her brow.

“Why the sudden interest in Nick, Judy? You’ve spent years behaving _just_ like your father.” Bonnie’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Judy’s suddenly nervous face.

“I, will…It just occurred to me that he’s been serving us for years, and we’ve been nothing but cruel to him. And that, as the one that brought him here, you don’t seem to want to stop it. That’s all.” Judy took her cup in her hands and sipped it carefully, obviously imitating her mother’s own habit of hiding her flushed face.

_Wait, did mom just call him “Nick?”_ Judy had to blink at the familiarity of the name, and wondered just how well her mother knew the fox.

“There’s more to it than that. Something happened.” Bonnie held out her handkerchief to her daughter, who had started coughing at her mother’s words.

“T-that’s not, I mean, nothing happened!” Snatching the piece of cloth, Judy wiped her face furiously.

“Careful, dear. You’ll mess up your fur.” Bonnie smirked and leaned forward, “Now, the truth?”

Judy paused in her furious wiping, and sighed loudly. “…I saw him last night. In the kitchen. He looked…Different. Miserable.”

Nodding, Bonnie leaned back against her chair, “As he often is. But why do _you_ care, Judy? You never have before.”

The younger doe toyed with the handkerchief slightly and bit her lip, much to her mother’s annoyance, “Because I’d never seen him like that before. And I realized that the whole time, my whole life, I never knew _who_ it was that served me. And how lonely he must be.”

Bonnie’s eyes went wide as she stared at her daughter, her shrewd mind going into overdrive with the possibilities.

Nicholas and Judy, both miserable, both lonely, and both “outcasts.” Nick because of what he was, and Judy because of her abnormal refusal to be married, and incredibly independent nature. Both were intelligent, yet so very stupid. Judy could drag Nick out of his shell, and Nick could curb some of Judy’s wildness.

There was potential there…

_Now to set the stage._ The older doe smiled and patted her daughter’s paw in understanding.

“I’m proud of you, Judy. I really am.”

Judy swallowed and reached for her tea, “So, tell me about Mrs. Cottonsworth. How did she take the refusal of her son?”

Bonnie could only smile, and allow her daughter the change of topic. “She was understandably upset, but I managed to console her. Did you know that the Johnsons have another daughter? One near William’s age? She was- “

Judy’s face showed relief as the conversation shifted towards mindless Bunnyburrow gossip, and away from the topic of the resident fox. She really didn’t want to talk about it, not when she didn’t really understand it herself. So she just nodded and asked questions when appropriate, and focused on her tea.

She didn’t notice the glint in her mother’s eyes as she rambled on about betrothals and marriages, or the sly, narrow-eyed, glance she gave a flash of orange-red fur that moved in the room beside the parlor.

If she did, she would have probably been a bit less relieved.


	3. A Bunny's Ward

Nicholas, or Nick to his limited number of friends, had something of a sixth-sense. It had nothing to do with ghosts, either. Hell, it wasn’t even supernatural, more of a skill than anything. See, growing up on the streets of Zootopia as a fox, you learned a few things. What not so say, how to walk in the “good” parts of town, and how to avoid being linked to any…nighttime activities you _may_ have been involved with.

You also learned how to tell when a hustle was being laid, and how to avoid it, or contribute to it. What this meant was that he, sitting in the parlor with Mrs. Bonnie Hopps for their Saturday tea-time, could _taste_ the hustle being set up.

He just didn’t know who the mark was, or what the scam was going to be. Yet.

“Nick, I barely saw you this week. How have you been?” the smaller mammal smiled at him pleasantly from her seat.

“Busy, Mrs. Hopps. Sir has me running quite a few errands for him.” Nick cradled his, far larger, tea cup in his paws.

“I heard. You’ve been visiting the Mayor nearly every afternoon since last month. For the festival, no doubt.” Bonnie took a sip from her cup, smiling behind the porcelain at the predator’s surprised eyes.

“I keep forgetting how well informed you are, Mrs. Hopps.” Sighing dramatically, Nick took a long drink from his cup. He sent into a coughing fit when the doe struck him lightly on the arm.

“Nicholas Wilde, what have I told you about _savoring_ your tea?!” Bonnie handed the coughing fox a handkerchief, and waited patiently for him to recover from his fit.

“R-right, my apologies, Mrs. Hopps.” Wiping his muzzle, Nick placed the cloth on the table.

“Bonnie, none of that _Mrs. Hopps_ tripe from you when we’re alone.” Grabbing the tea pot, Bonnie filled refilled Nick’s cup and added three spoonful’s of sugar.

“…Thank you, B-bonnie.” Taking the cup, Nick slowly stirred the liquid, clearing his throat several times to ease discomfort.

Bonnie smiled and gestured to a tray set before them, which held a variety of snacks. Fried crickets, blueberries, carrots, strawberries, and other produce. “Eat. You’re too thin.”

“You always say that.” But even as he spoke, Nick was reaching for the blueberries.

“Fresh from the bushes. Had the kids pick them this morning.” The older mammal hid a grin behind a cup as she watched the fox take handfuls of the small blue fruit.

“You spoil me, Bonnie.” Nick gave the doe a soft, real, smile.

_So rare a sight I might faint just from witnessing it._ Bonnie wished she could frame that smile in a painting for the world to see. She would put the painting on every           wall, door, and building in Bunnyburrow.

Look at this fox! It would say. How can someone hate so sweet a mammal? Look at his sad, downtrodden face. His soft, beautiful red fur. Hold him, comfort him!

_If only it were so simple, they’re all so set in their ways. Every one of them._ Bonnie had to frown, ever so slightly, at her thoughts. She had once been just like the rest of the rabbits in the Tri-Burrows. Full of fear and distrust against all foxes, despite never meeting one.

Then she had taken a trip to Zootopia on business with Stewart, something involving an expansion in their business, she didn’t quite remember. The rest of the events of that trip had long overshadowed the minor details.

She had gone shopping with several of her friends and their guards, rabbits employed by their families to insure their safety in the big city, when she’d felt a paw grab unto her money pouch. She’d reacted instantly, swinging her umbrella and striking the thieving mammal in the face, spinning around to confront the criminal.

Only to pause, and feel her heart ache at the sight.

It had been a young Nick, nearly 14 years of age, half-starved and covered in dirt and grime. Bleeding from the place on his muzzle that she’d struck him, wide green eyes staring up at her in fear. He thought that she’d have him killed for daring to target a noble lady, something he’d confessed years later.

She’d surprised him when, instead of allowing her fears to control her and ordering the guards to seize him, she’d knelt before the young fox and cleaned his face with her handkerchief. The white cloth turning red from the blood that coated it, but she didn’t care. She was a young mother, then. Barely into her twenties, with only a few dozen kits, but her maternal instincts were strong.

And this fox needed her. Whatever fear she’d felt dissolved in the face of motherly instincts.

Her friends had been horrified. She’d gotten close to a fox, touched him even. Just inches from his claws and fangs, well within striking distance. She’d done what no rabbit had ever done before.

But none of that mattered.

She’d taken him with her. Gotten his wounds looked at, fed him, had a bath drawn for him, clothed him in something that wasn’t rags and actually fit him. She learned his name, coaxed from him with soft words and assurances. He’d been so difficult, “never let them see that they get to him,” the motto of his life. Such a silly fox.

She could see right through him.

She’d pieced together that he was from a poor family, father deceased, mother sick and hungry. He stole to provide for her. He was a good and kind soul, being crushed by a society that hated him for what he was. A pure soul, damning itself to try and help the one he loved. The thought of the fox being hurt, or killed, pained her like the thought of one of her own children in the same situation.

So, she’d made a decision.

She brought him with her, a new “butler” for her family. He had no experience, or education, but he was clever. She’d learned that early on. So, she taught him. Gave him an education. Private tutors, the best money could buy, and personal, one-on-one, lessons in etiquette and courtly behavior. He’d master all of the skills needed, and more, in record time. She’d felt a mother’s pride when he’d no longer needed her lessons, surpassing even her considerable skill.

She did everything she could to make sure he wanted for nothing, like all her children. She even made sure that his mother was well taken care of, living a good, but simple, life in Zootopia. They, Nick and his mother, exchanged letters often. Sometimes the older vixen wrote to Bonnie, as well.

And so, a fox came to live amongst bunnies. Her son in all but blood. She had always wished she could do more, however. A butler’s life didn’t suit a mammal of Nick’s intelligence and charm. She wanted to see him succeed, to be _great_. She knew he could be. He just needed a push, someone to drag him out of his shell, and show him.

She couldn’t be that someone. She’d tried in the past, but failed. The fox may trust her, love her as a second mother, perhaps, but he was too scarred by society to _try._ He needed someone with more fire, more force, to push him.

Someone like Judy.

_Which brings us to today…_ She eyed the larger mammal, watching him devour the blueberries with a single-mindedness.

“Nick?” she played with her cup.

“Yes?” he wiped his lips with a handkerchief, _that_ handkerchief.

“What do you think of Judy?” Bonnie wasn’t one to beat around the bush, at least not with this fox. She had to be far more clever, in ways he didn’t expect.

She had to outfox him.

“She’s…different than the others. More wild, more uncontrollable. Why?” the fox was staring at her with suspicion, now.

“I’m just curious. I know you and her haven’t been the most agreeable of mammals towards each other in the past.” Bonnie took a sip of her tea, watching the fox’s muzzle.

Nick grimaced and sighed, “She was quite cruel to me. Recently, however, she’s been more hospitable. I think something's changed.”

_Ah, good. Our chat last week struck a chord with her. That makes this somewhat simpler_. The doe nodded at the fox’s words, setting her cup down.

“I’ve noticed that as well. Maybe she’s had a change of heart? Did you say something to her?”

“Not that I recall. She’s been different since her fight with Mr. Hopps over that young buck, Mr. Cottonsworth. Other than that, I’ve no idea.” Nick shrugged, uncaring.

“I see.” Bonnie could only curse, inwardly. Nick would be an obstacle in her plans, she knew he wouldn’t open up willingly. Wouldn’t meet with Judy knowingly.

Then, she had an idea.

_Not knowingly, no. But many a mammal has stumbled upon another in a moonlight’s stroll through the gardens..._ The doe kept her face blank, a skill she’d learned from Nick after all their years in each other’s company, and sighed.

“I’d hoped you would have an insight into her strange behavior. No matter, I’ll have to ask her directly, then.” Sipping her tea, she waited for her opening.

“Well, hopefully nothing’s wrong.” The fox reached for more blueberries, only to frown at the empty bowl.

“Oh! I knew I should have brought more. I’m sorry, Nicholas.” Sighing, Bonnie furrowed her brows. Looking at the bowl in consideration.

“I think those are the last of the ones we have in stock. I’ll have to have the farm-hands pick more from the bushes later. I’m certain the kits wouldn’t mind, either.” She kept her gaze thoughtful but watched his face out of the corner of her eyes.

She knew he was a lazy animal, and wouldn’t want to do it himself. But she also knew he was a big softie on the inside, and wouldn’t want to inconvenience her.

“No, that’s fine Bonnie. I’ll pick them myself after I complete my tasks for the day. Thank you for offering, however. I like the gardens, at any rate.” The fox leaned back in his chair, looking out the window of the parlor at the long stretch of green that made up the Hopps personal gardens.

A separate, more personal, plot of land than their massive fields. The garden was for the food the family ate, and for plants like roses and lilies. The fields were cash crops, where the family grew their livelihood.

“Well, if you insist.” Bonnie hid a smile behind her teacup.

_The stage is set. Now to get both characters onboard._

Judy would be simple enough. She loved pleasing others, after all. Bonnie would just need to drop a few hints...


	4. A Moonlight's Discussion

_Go for a walk in the gardens at night, it will help clear your mind_. That’s what Judy’s mother, Mrs. Bonnie Hopps, had told her earlier in the day. _The quiet will do you good, Judith._

Well, it was certainly quiet.

Without the rushing and screaming of kits and the working of farmhands, the Hopps Estate seemed like another world entirely. The soft flow of the fountains in the garden, the breeze in the leaves of the trees, the sounds of the birds and insects her long rabbit ears could pinpoint in the well maintained grass, and the scents of both flowers and produce. It was serene, peaceful.

It was everything Judy wasn’t.

_It’s **too** quiet. Why did mother think this would help?_ Judy turned to leave the garden, and its overwhelming silence. She’d tell her mother that the garden had helped, and that she felt much better.

Anything to avoid having to come back here again.

But as she began to leave, she heard the sound of paws on grass behind her. Heavier steps than any rabbit could achieve, and there was only one mammal besides rabbits that lived in the Hopps Burrow.

“Miss Hopps?” Nicholas said, standing several feet behind her.

Judy turned to face the fox, taking in the small basket of blueberries he held in one paw, and the handkerchief he wiped his lips with. She noted strange stains on the white fabric, a brownish-red, and faded from both washing and time. The handkerchief was placed back into a pocket before she had time to investigate further.

“…Mr. Wilde.” She wouldn’t address him by his first name. It felt wrong to do so without his permission, now. Like she had not _earned_ the right, when she had _taken_ it before.

_How quickly things changed._ Judy noted the slight widening of green eyes, and took it as a sign that the other mammal had noticed the change in address.

“Are you here to enjoy the garden?” Nicholas moved towards her, but kept a respectful distance. Paws at his side, one hanging onto the handle of the basket of fruit, and his posture relaxed and loose at first appearance. Uncaring, lazy. Like the face of the fox before her.

But Judy could see the tension in his shoulders, for she felt the same in hers. The air was thick with it, the grievances of the past scarring this small interaction. She had glimpsed behind The Mask of Nicholas Wilde, and once that door had been opened it could not be closed. She could see through him, through the lazy grin and half-closed eyes.

“Yes. I came out here to ease my mind.” Judy turned her gaze towards the fountains in the distance.

“Ah. I’ll take my leave, then.” The fox made for the steps that led back to the burrow.

And with the fox’s back to her, Judy realized the importance of this moment. That she may not have another like this again.

She took a breath, and made the leap.

“Wait. You don’t have to leave, Mr. Wilde. There is room enough for us both here.” Nicholas turned and look at her with eyes wide and unguarded, before shifting back into the mask she had come to detest so much.

“Miss Hopps, it would hardly be appropriate for a male and a female to meet and speak, unsupervised, in moonlit gardens.” There was a hint, just a small amount, of teasing in his tone. Enough for her to fume.

Had she been the Judy of a week ago, she would have lost her temper. Insulted him and stomped away, cursing all foxes. But the Judy of the present was wiser, and had “grown up,” as her mother had called it. So, she bit her tongue, and held back the comments that would have no doubt made him think even less of her.

“Well, Mr. Wilde, you are my family’s butler. Surely you would not leave me, the daughter of your employer, alone and unattended in these moonlit gardens?” there was a pause, before the fox sighed and held up a paw in defeat.

“As the lady says.” He made no further attempts to leave the garden, but also moved no further away from the staircase that led to the burrow.

_Such a stubborn mammal..._ The doe narrowed her violet eyes in annoyance at the fox’s persistence.

It occurred to her that being bold was more likely to get her way in this situation. Nicholas was simply not going to offer her anything, not after what grief she had caused him in the past. She would have to be direct. Forceful, even. As cunning as the fox, and just as stubborn too.

“Mr. Wilde, surely you would much rather be closer to the blueberry bushes? Your basket is not quite full, yet.” She noted his hesitation, and moved for the kill, “My brothers wake in several hours to tend the fields. They’ll likely stop and eat the rest of them by the afternoon. You’ll not have another chance.”

“You make a compelling argument, Miss Hopps.” The fox moved away from the staircase and towards the bushes she had gestured to. Judy swore she heard him mutter something about daughters, and their similarity to their mothers.

She took it as a compliment and simply smiled politely.

They said nothing to one another for a time, just standing in the gardens in silence. With a companion nearby, it was not so oppressive and overwhelming to Judy. She found it quite agreeable to her tastes, now. She could finally think, and think clearly.

She wondered if, because she had spent so long in the company of others, that she just couldn’t stand to be without?

“Miss Hopps?” Nicholas’ voice dragged her from her thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Wilde?”

“Why are you in the gardens at moonlight, if I may be so bold to ask?” she saw the fox shift in the corner of her eyes, and turned to face him.

He was done foraging from the bushes, the basket having been filled and hanging at his side, clutched by a single paw. His other was in his pants pocket, the one with the handkerchief that she did not doubt held some significance. Green eyes pinned her in place with a suspicious curiosity.

“My mother recommended to come here at night, so as to escape the noise of the others and enjoy silence in which to think.” The green eyes narrowed, but she suspected not at her.

“Did she now? How curious.” A small grin pulled at his lips, and not a joyful one.

“Pardon?”

“Well, it just so happens that Mrs. Hopps convinced me to venture into gardens in order to collect what she knew was my favorite treat. At the end of my working day. Which is-“

“At moonlight.” Ah, now the pieces had fallen into place. This meeting had been arranged, and by neither of them.

A clever encounter arranged by a clever bunny, who no doubt laughed herself to sleep at the thought of the two of them meeting beneath the stars. Both the fox and the young doe had to give her credit for her manipulation, even if they had been the subjects of it.

“I see.” She had no other idea of what to say to the, understandably, irate fox.

“I’ve found that the night’s air is no longer to my taste, Miss Hopps. Shall we retire?” Nicholas gestured to the staircase nearby, obviously expecting her to be of a similar opinion.

The Judy from a week ago would have been most agreeable to the suggestion.

“No. Mr. Wilde, I’ve somethings to say to you before we retire.” She crossed her arms, an action what would have had her mother reprimanding her in outrage, and narrowed her eyes at the fox.

“Miss Hopps, you’ve made your opinion of me quite clear over the years. I’m certain I’ve heard all that you’ve to say-“

“I apologize.” Two words was all it took for the fox, known for his quick wit and quicker tongue, to be rendered speechless.

The way his muzzle opened and closed, and his wide-eyed stare, was well worth the manipulation of her mother, Judy decided.

“I-I beg your pardon, Miss Hopps?” Clearing his throat, Nicholas stood straight and held his ears perked in her direction.

“You heard quite clearly, Mr. Wilde. I apologize for my past actions. I was most disagreeable, inhospitable, and a menace to you despite your years of dutiful service. I was…needlessly cruel. I see that now.” Judy bit her lip and turned her gaze to the ground, unwilling to meet the emerald stare of the fox before her.

“…What brought on this change, Miss Hopps?” the fox’s voice was small, and filled with an emotion should could not discern.

_Rage? Hope? Disbelief, most certainly, but what else is in there?_ She had made her choice, however. She would follow it through.

Clearing her throat, she looked up at the fox and met his emerald gaze in resignation of whatever outrage he would issue forth. She also thought of a lie to suit the situation, unwilling to confess to her spying on him in days past, “I’ve had time to think, as of late. With the lack of suiters pestering me. A conversation with my mother made me realize how…dreadful I was towards you. I-I don’t wish to be my father’s daughter, in that regard.”

Nicholas nodded, “Is that all, Miss Hopps?”

His tone was dismissive, cold even. He’d not believed her.

Judy could only nod and return her gaze to the ground before her. She’d said her piece, even if it appeared that it was ill received, “That is all, Mr. Wilde. I’m ready to retire for the eve.”

The fox nodded and gestured to the stairs, following a pace behind her. He opened the door for her when they had reached it, and escorted her to her room in silence. No words passed between them all the way until her bedroom door, which he courteously opened for her.

Entering the room, she turned to bid him a good night, but paused at the sight of a small, but dare she say _true_ , smile on his muzzle.

“Mr. Wilde?”

“Miss Hopps. I will not pretend that your past actions have been washed away, but I will confess myself surprised with your words under the moonlight. I…had not been expecting an apology from you, ever. And so find myself at a loss of what to do.” Nicholas frowned and rubbed at his muzzle with his free paw, the other still holding his basket of berries, which he tapped lightly against his leg in thought.

A small glint appeared in his green orbs, and he glanced down at the basket of fruit, “Can you cook, Miss Hopps? Bake, more specifically?”

“I…Yes, at least passably, according to my mother.” A rabbit of noble blood or not, Mrs. Bonnie Hopps was a practical doe. She’d encouraged all her children to learn skills related to household management.

Mostly to attempt to humble them, with varying degrees of success.

“Excellent.” The fox handed Judy the basket, “As proof of your sincerity, I expect a gift, of sorts. I’m fond of blueberries, you’ve guessed.”

Judy could only nod in numb acceptance, clutching the basket with tow paws, “Anything in particular you’d like, Mr. Wilde?”

“Surprise me, Miss Hopps.” Nicholas turned and began to make his way to his own chambers, but paused.

“And Miss Hopps?”

Opening her door again, as she was about to close it, Judy peered at the fox curiously, “Yes, Mr. Wilde?”

The fox grinned his sly grin, and gestured to the berries, “Bring it to me at moonlight, in the gardens.”

With that, the butler placed his paws at the small of his back, and padded away softly into the dark, leaving a stunned doe behind him.


	5. Baking is Difficult

Judy may have been fibbing a bit when she'd told Nicholas that she knew how to bake, and bake competently.

Sure, she wasn't a stranger to cooking, having been educated growing up, but nothing overtly complicated. She was a noble lady, after all. Simple cookies or bread, things that anyone with directions would be able to achieve, nothing grand. Nothing that required a large amount of talent at the stove or oven.

But she most definitely had no skill in baking something that could use a basket of blueberries.

_Why did I say anything?!_

"Ugh." She groaned and laid her head on her arms, having seated herself at a table in the kitchen. She lifted her gaze upwards to give a heated glare towards the basket of fruit that lay before her.

She'd gotten up extra early, before the rest of the household and staff, to make use of the large kitchen without distraction. However, as soon as she'd stepped before the oven she'd had the realization that, in her stunned state the night prior, she had not been completely honest with her family's butler.

That'd been over an hour ago, and she was no closer to her objective than she had been before.

She had barely passed her mother's expectations of her cooking skills, and that was after the older doe declared her "hopeless."

"Ugh, this is impossible! I'll never be able to make anything!" Groaning in frustration, she rubbed her head with her paws. It was nearing breakfast, and soon the kitchen would be overflowing with activity as the various cooks and servants made use of the facilities. She'd be forced to leave, empty handed, without Nicolas' demanded repayment.

And her plans to redeem herself to the fox hindered on making due on promises made. Especially in the beginning, when the trust between them was so fragile.

 _There's got to be another way. But what…?_  Judith Hopps was not a mammal that quit, even in the most hopeless of circumstances. She'd told Gideon Grey such during  _The Incident_  in her youth.

 _I have to make the dish, yes, but no one said that I could not have assistance in doing so…_  A small smirk made its way onto her face, and she grabbed the basket off the table. A plan forming in her mind.

 _I know just the mammal to help!_ She walked, more of a jog than anything, towards the Master Suite of the Hopps Home.

Mrs. Bonnie Hopps had been having a most delightful dream, involving the success of plots concerning two young mammals in her care, when she was forced to awake by her door practically flying off its hinges. The wooden frame hitting the wall with a loud thud, causing her to flail inelegantly in her bed. Sputtering, she narrowed her eyes at the culprit, a sheepishly smiling Judith Hopps, who clutched a basket in front of her.

"Judith Laverne Hopps! You're too old to be charging in here like that!" huffing she spared a glance at her husband, Stewart, who hadn't stirred in the slightest during the commotion, snoring away beside her.

She'd be having a talk with the buck about that, later. He could sleep through a tornado! What if it had been a robbery?!

"Sorry, mother, but I really need your help!" Her daughter stared at her with pleading violet eyes, causing Bonnie to sigh and sit up in her large, for a rabbit couple, bed.

"Oh, alright. I'm assuming it has something to do with the basket clutched in your paws?" A quick glance had Bonnie's eyes widening slightly, and the gears in her mind spinning despite such a disorientating awakening.

 _Blueberries? I know she and Nicolas were in the gardens last night…Oh, oh my!_  She had to force herself to remain neutral in expression, despite the rising joy she felt about the situation.

"Y-yes. I made a…promise, of sorts, to Nicolas that I would make him a treat involving their use but-" Here the older doe cut Judy off.

"You, despite my best efforts, cannot bake to save your life." Bonnie sighed and pulled herself out of the warm comforts of her bed, smoothing down her evening gown and walked towards her dressing screen. "I have an idea of what you want. Help me dress, and we'll come up with something."

Nodding, Judy placed the blueberries on a nearby dresser and moved to assist her mother with her dressing.

That, at least, was something she could do.

 

* * *

 

 

Nicolas was not having a good day. He'd not gotten much in terms of rest the night prior, due to his mind whirling in its attempts to unravel the plotting of the cunning Mrs. Bonnie Hopps, and thinking on the unusual behavior attributed to one Judith Hopps in the gardens. To add to this, he'd slept just a trifling few minutes in, and was rudely awakened by one of his  _minders_ , as he liked to address them.

The rabbit servants that Mr. Hopps had tasked with "assisting him in his employment." They were, more or less, eyes and ears tasked to report his comings and goings to the patriarch of the family. They had an annoying habit of appearing at the worst of times, and not being very helpful.

More often than not, they somehow created more work for the fox, instead of assisting him in completing his tasks.

 _That was my favorite bow-tie…_ Nicolas had very few possessions to his name, having most of his pay sent to his mother in Zootopia, and as such took very good care of what he did have.

Like the tie which had been a gift from Mrs. Hopps on his 18th birthday, which had been covered in tea during… _accident_  concerning his  _minders_  this morning. They'd placed a tea-tray on the old, battered, dresser in his room and  _accidentally_  spilt tea on the accessory.

Luckily, however, the tie would survive after a thorough cleaning. And he had a spare of considerably less quality.

 _I'd like to give those rabbits a thorough cleaning…_  The fox's eyes narrowed as he moved down the hallway of the large manor that was placed directly above the Hopps Burrow.

He'd taken a brief trip to the kitchen to obtain his customary tray of snacks, chatted briefly with the cooks there about plans for the day's meals, ignoring the usual muttered comments and suspicious looks that had become a stable of his work day, and headed off to await Mr. Hopps' daily tasks. He was not allowed in the Master Bedroom, as per the patriarch's orders.

 _Probably suspects me of stealing something and running. Like this has been a long-con._  The thought had crossed his mind in the early days of his time in the Hopps' service. To steal something precious, and run back to Zootopia to pawn it.

Education, clothes, and food aside, it would be much easier than dealing with the treatment he regularly did. It wasn't as if he was a respected individual in society, being a fox.

But the thought of disappointing his mother, or Mrs. Hopps, like that…

 _Not something I'd like to consider._  The fox's ears flicked in the direction of bedroom, hearing the door open from his position in the sitting room down the hall. "Hmm?"

 _Far too early for Stewart to be up and about, and Bonnie likes to take her time in the mornings. Before she's ambushed with the hundreds of little concerns that come her way._ The matriarch of the burrow was often flooded with the complaints and whining of its members.

It's not like they had much of another option to turn to, in Nicolas' opinion. Stewart would just direct them back to Bonnie in the end. Cut out the middle man, and all.

"Thank you so much, Mother!" the fox felt his brows lift at that familiar voice.

 _What is she doing in there so early?_  Nicolas knew that Judith liked to wake up early, eager to greet the day, but she often avoided her parents unless pressed.

As much as the doe loved them, she was fiercely independent. Something the fox, begrudgingly, admired in her.

"Of course, dear. Now, let's hurry along. If we wait too long the kitchens will be full." The voice of Bonnie Hopps was as distinguishable as her daughters.

It only took a moment for Nicolas to figure out what was going on.

 _Well, well. Looks like Fluff wasn't very honest with me._  Nicolas was affronted that she had lied about her skills in the kitchen, but couldn't fault her for admitting that she needed assistance.

And it looked like he would still get to enjoy a blueberry treat, made at least impart by her hands…

The inclusion of Bonnie Hopps, however, made him feel wary. She was becoming ever more invested in whatever this game they were playing was, and that made Nicolas increasingly cautious. The older doe was planning something, something involving him and Judith.

 _And I'm going to figure out what…_ The hustle was still unknown to him, but he could feel it being laid out.  _But am I the mark, or the shill?_

"Ah, Nicolas. C-can you, uh, assist me for a moment?" the uncertain voice of Mr. Hopps, dressed in his night clothes, dragged the fox out from his thoughts.

The cautious rabbit was standing at the entrance of the sitting room, likely certain of the fox's presence there.

"Of course, Mr. Hopps." Grin fixed on his face, Nicolas walked over to cater to the buck's needs.

His cunning, intelligent, mind crafting dozens of schemes. All of which were centered around young Judith Hopps.

 


	6. A Small Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. I've fully re-uploaded and added the chapter that wasn't on here before, and the new one just written today.  
> Expect the same when Maiden's Knight updates.

Mrs. Bonnie Hopps had to hold in a sigh of relief as her daughter, covered in flour and looking far from the noble lady that she was, smiled at her sheepishly. In front of them sat a medium sized pie, fresh from the oven. A little oddly shaped, but passable.

And it had only taken the better part of the morning, and four others deemed "unacceptable," to get it right.

"Well, hopefully, you _learned_ something from this experience, Judith.” The older doe huffed and wiped her paws on a nearby rag, resisting the urge to take a piece of the pie herself.

She was quite famished.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I know I’m terrible in the kitchen.” The other rabbit bit her lip and turned her gaze to the floor, but it was obvious from the rocking of her heels that she was not sad at all.

Giving her daughter a small shake of her head, Bonnie took her flour covered paws in her own and gave them a small squeeze, “It’s quite alright, dear. Just…practice. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

 _At least I hope, or poor Nicholas will starve._ The older doe grinned slightly at the thought of the two of them attempting to do something in a kitchen, arguing covered in flour. _A mother can dream._

"Well, I won't have to do this again anytime soon. At least I hope." Judy huffed and looked down at their created treat, "Is it OK? Passable?"

Shaking her head, Bonnie raised her brow and shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, without tasting it. But, assuming we didn’t miss a step, and I’m sure we didn’t, I imagine it’ll be as good as all other pies.”

Judy frowned and looked at it with a grimace. “I don’t want it to be _just_ as good as other pies, I want it to be _better._ I want it to be _perfect._ ”

The older doe’s eyebrows both shot up, and she tilted her head. “I’m sure Nicholas will appreciate it no matter what, Judith.”

There was a warning in her voice that made the younger doe pause and look at her mother questioningly. After a few moments pause, she snorted, ignoring her mother's disapproving look, she took the pie in paw. "I'm not going to toss it out and force us to make another, Mother."

Sighing in relief, Bonnie moved over to the sink to wash her hands, snagging a paw full of blueberries as she did so. “Good. I’d have to smack you upside the head on principle, young lady!”

Looking down at the pie in her paws, then at her mother, Judy cleared her throat. “So…I have to wait until tonight to deliver this to him. Where should I put it?”

Pausing, the older doe furrowed her brow and hummed. Reaching for a clean towel, she washed her paws and muzzle. “Well, why don’t you place it in your room? No one will eat it in there. Half the house is scared to enter your room after the lashing you gave your brother Jonathan.”

Judy nodded and made to leave, before stopping and putting the pie on the counter. Wrapping her arms around the distracted doe, who was cleaning her muzzle with the cloth yet, she gave her mother a small squeeze. “Thanks for everything!”

Bonnie, having jolted slightly at the hug, merely chuckled and gave Judy’s arms a small pat. “Of course, hun. Next time, however, wake me a little later. And let me have my morning tea. I’m famished!”

Judy shook her head and moved away to let the other rabbit finish cleaning up and bidding her farewell, for now. She eagerly headed towards her room to change, clean, and store her treat.

So distracted was she that she didn’t notice the orange-red figure standing in a hallway that she’d passed, humming away to herself.

Giving her a glance, paying particular attention to the item in her paws, the figure moved into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

Nick had been anxious to get into the kitchen all morning, but Mr. Stewart Hopps distracted him with meaningless tasks after another. Double and triple checking on aspects of his work that he, Nicholas, knew he’d accomplished to perfection the day before. The rabbit patriarch’s distrust of him and his capabilities was a sore point for the fox, especially when he’d delivered nothing but stellar results in the past.

The moment the middle-aged buck had declared, with a huff, that everything was in order and that the fox could see to his other duties, was like an act of God. The fox had hoped that the two rabbits would be still hard at work in the kitchens, so that he could catch them in the act and see Judy's face when he caught her in her lie, but he hadn't the heart to disturb them while they'd hugged near the sink with the freshly made pie on the counter top.

And he couldn't confront the young doe as she skipped back to her room, beaming, with her hard made prize.

 _I’m getting old._ There was a time, years ago, that’d he would have gladly done such a thing. Recently events had thrown him a little off of his game.

 _But, I can still confront someone…_ With his ever-present grin, the fox slowly moved into the kitchen, the older rabbit's back still turned to the doorway.

Taking in the mess, and wincing at the thought of cleaning it, the fox opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off before he could say a word.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re sneaking around over there, Nicholas. I was wondering when you’d show up.”  Turning with a grin, the older doe gave him the look she’d always reserved for her children when they thought they’d one-upped her.

 _Sly old rabbit…_ Sighing, Nick leaned against the wall. “So, just decided to give a helping hand to your daughter when you saw her struggling in the kitchen?”

Nick was expecting her to say something similar but was caught off guard when she shook her head. "No, she asked for my help. I know you know. I saw you out of the corner of my eye this morning. I've gotten quite used to spotting _orange and red_ in my house.”

Huffing, the fox sighed and moved forward, tilting his head down at Bonnie. “Alright. I’ll give her points for knowing when to get help. Can’t fault her there.”

The other mammal nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “But?”

At the fox’s confused look, Bonnie shook her head. “Don’t play dumb with me, Nicholas. We both know you’re anything but. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have more to say.”

Sighing, the larger mammal grinned. “You know me so well.” Clearing his throat, the fox frowned. “We both know that Judith and I didn’t meet in those gardens by chance, Mrs. Hopps-“

“Bonnie.” The doe interrupted.

“Bonnie, apologies. Only you could have sent her, and both Judith and I confirmed that.” The fact that the younger doe and fox talked about her plotting made the older doe grimace. “Ah, that wasn’t part of your plans.”

Nick’s delight at one-upping her was apparent and Bonnie couldn’t help but sigh. “Yes. I sent you both in there with the hopes that you’d meet.”

Nodding, the fox tapped a clawed finger on the counter top. “But why? Why make us meet? What’s the end goal, here, Bonnie? Did you arrange this little apology of hers?”

The fox’s grin had vanished, turning into a deep-set frown, making the older doe’s heart clench painfully.

“No. That was her idea. She’d merely come to me seeking a place to think and…” Here, the rabbit sighed. “About her past behavior concerning you. She wanted to make amends, and couldn’t think. So, I…helped it along.”

"By sending her to me directly." Nick could appreciate the honesty but also felt that the whole truth wasn't being revealed.

The hustle was still in the air, waiting.

 _She would have been Queen of The Streets if she'd been in Zootopia._ Nick could always appreciate a good hustler, and Mrs. Bonnie Hopps could have been a pro.

Shame he’d spent years in the craft himself, he’d gotten good at reading mammals. Especially rabbits.

Foxes don’t survive long in Bunnyburrow if they can’t read rabbits.

“Yes.” Bonnie nodded, looking resigned. The guilt and shame on her face almost fooled the fox, but he knew it was a front.

He’d learned everything he knew about playing politics and “court” from this rabbit, she couldn’t fool him. But…

“Thank you for being honest, Bonnie.” Sighing, the fox reached out and gave her a small hug, which she returned happily. Taking care not to smear flour on his clean suit-vest.

Despite their little politicking around each other, and the game they were playing, Nick couldn’t find it in himself to begrudge her. Or push her too hard.

She’d done far too much for him for that.

"You should get cleaned up, Mrs." He heard her grumble about the title before she pulled away to lightly rub his muzzle with a smile.

“Oh, fine. It was getting a bit messy anyway.” Patting his cheek, the older doe padded out of the kitchen, pausing to look back at him. “I have the Cottensworth family coming over for tea later this evening, to discuss the…incident with Judy and their son. I’ll need an attendant and-“

“Say no more. I’ll be there.” Having a fox as your butler did wonders for the Hopps in social circles out here in Bunnyburrow.

Yes, it was a strange, horrifying to the common rabbit, concept that made them the talk and gossip of the Tri-Burrows. But it was also quite the powerful social tool, a demonstration of standing and prowess that, though degrading at times with certain family members, Nick gladly partook in when it came to Mrs. Bonnie Hopps.

After all, when a strong, _vicious_ predator serves with dedication to its natural prey…

What does that say about the prey it serves?

 _It’s always fun to play the game._ Nick gave a small wave as the older doe left the kitchen, but despite his pleasant departure from the Hopps matriarch, they both knew the truth.

_This isn’t over._

Both their minds whirled with a dozen possibilities, all circulating around an unsuspecting Judith L. Hopps, who was happily bathing in her room.


End file.
